


Plan Me No Plans

by CaptainLeBubbles



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Matchmaking, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crowley Was Not Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), God Ships It, M/M, Minor Violence, Much Ado About Nothing References, Pride and Prejudice References, Romantic Comedy, Surprise Ship, Wodehouse References, comedic violence though, this plot only works if you assume everyone involved is an idiot, very bad dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: Frustrated by how long Her otp are taking to become canon, God informs the Archangels that the Ineffable Plan is dependent on them falling in love with each other. The Archangels then take it upon themselves to get the pair together.Cue five Archangels attempting to orchestrate a Meet Cute between two people who have been hiding their friendship for thousands of years at this point.





	1. Prologue: It Begins, As It Will End, With Raphael Being Hashtag Done

**Author's Note:**

> The matchmaker fic that a surprising number of people were really excited about.
> 
> I'm about three inches from being done with Hiss Hiss Fall In Love so naturally I decided to start a new wip instead. This one should be rather on the short side, though; I'm predicting a max of like five or six chapters.
> 
> You can imagine her any way you like, but I had Catherine Tate in mind for Raphael when I wrote her, and in fact this casting informed quite a lot of my characterization of her, which is why I'm bothering to tell you at all.

“How are we supposed to make them fall in love?” Uriel demanded. “The Demon Crowley is a demon. It’s right there in the name. How could any angel fall in love with him?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel replied. “But if any angel could, it’s Aziraphale. He’s always been an odd duck.”

“An odd duck?” Michael asked.

“Yes, it’s a human expression,” Gabriel explained proudly. “I rather like it.”

“Aziraphale’s not a duck, though.”

“No, but he is odd.”

“That’s true.”

“Maybe if Aziraphale and the demon Crowley were to meet, sparks would fly?” Sandalphon suggested. “Our sources do suggest he’s also an ‘odd duck’ among demons.”

“We can’t just have them meet,” Uriel said. “Aziraphale will just smite the demon as soon as they do, as any angel naturally would. It’s not like he doesn’t know what he looks like.”

“He’s said he prefers not to smite him if he can avoid it, in case Hell sends a replacement up instead. Better the enemy whose wiles he knows than one whose wiles he’ll have to put in time to learn, he says.”

“That’s very sensible,” Michael said. “I had wondered.”

Sandalphon nodded. “So if we can plan for them to meet, perhaps arrange for them to spend a long time together, maybe they’ll start talking and fall in love? The Almighty has said that the necessary seeds are there, if only they’d realize.”

“How do we arrange that?”

“I have a thought,” Uriel said. “Aziraphale has that bookshop, right? Humans matchmake all the time, there’s bound to be something there that will tell us.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers excitedly. “That’s an excellent plan, Uriel! I’ll go down there right now and ask!”

And vanished in a crackle of lightning, leaving the other three to stare at the place where he’d been.

Time passes differently in heaven than it does on earth, so while it was nearly an hour later by Gabriel’s reckoning when he returned, only about ten minutes had passed in heaven, time that the others had spent speculating about whether Michael ought to use the backchannels to get some information on the demon Crowley or whether that might be crossing the line of the Arrangement with Ligur.

They abruptly cut off when Gabriel appeared, triumphantly holding up a book.

“Pride and Prejudice,” he said. “Aziraphale says it’s the quintessential love story, and he has five copies, so he must really like it. We can use it as our matchmaking template.”

-/-

“What,” the reader might well be asking at this point, “the fuck?”

See, what had happened was-

About two days ago on earth, a nanny and a gardener bid farewell to the child believed to be the Antichrist, and after restoring themselves to their preferred shapes and forms, angel and demon had stared longingly at one another for a long moment before clearing their throats and shuffling awkwardly and saying that, oh, must be getting on then, see you around, we’ll rendezvous to discuss our plans later, take care, etc.

Meanwhile, in Heaven, the Almighty had watched this before metaphorically smacking Her metaphorical forehead and saying, paraphrasing, “I was _ sure _ the nanny-and-gardener routine would work!”

It is common knowledge that God has a Great Plan. It is also common knowledge that God has an Ineffable Plan. It is less common knowledge that the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan are not, in fact, one and the same, though the Almighty thinks this ought to be obvious, what with the Ineffability, but there’s no accounting for free will sometimes. In any case, the Great Plan is being carefully worked toward by the angels and demons, while the Almighty works on the Ineffable Plan Herself. Some things require a personal touch.

One part of Her Ineffable Plan is rather dependent on a certain angel and a certain demon being a couple, but unfortunately, no matter what She tries to get them together, nothing really ever seems to work.

That’s the trouble with Free Will, She thought. You give it to them and then they go and use it.

It was therefore decided that reinforcements must be called in, and so the Archangels were summoned (well, four of them were summoned: the fifth was away tending to another little task that required reinforcements, because Free Will was causing quite a huge mess as Armageddon loomed closer) and told that, in order for the Plan’s success, Aziraphale and the Demon Crowley _ must _ become a couple. For the sake of Free Will, though, they mustn’t be told that any Plan was involved. It had to be their own choice. Otherwise it wouldn’t work.

Which is where we come in, on four Archangels discussing the nuance of romance in an attempt to bring an angel and a demon together.

The fifth one, you ask? She’ll be along shortly- just as soon as she’s finished sorting a few things out in Tadfield, that is. Free Will is all well and good, but there’s nothing to say it can’t be helped along in the right direction.

Besides, dear Adam has some trials coming up in a few years, and will need a few friends at his side to help him through them.

-/-

In London, four Archangels were sat around a tearoom reading a Book. The Book was Pride and Prejudice, and while there were quite a lot of silly human things in the books, the angels all felt rather approvingly of the strict rules of decorum that the people in the book adhered to. This, they concluded, must be why Aziraphale enjoyed it so much compared to other options, which limited experience has told them are all rather lewd.

“There’s a lot of talk of balls in this book,” Sandalphon observed, taking the book and flipping through the pages. It seemed to them that every page they selected had mention of some ball or other.

“Balls are very important to human courtship,” Michael explained. “They allow them the chance to mingle, converse, entertain, and dance, while giving them more freedom to choose their acquaintance than a small group might.”

“Do you think,” Sandalphon asked, “That if we were to hold a ball, it might get Aziraphale and the Demon Crowley together?”

“But what sort of ball might they both be at?” Uriel asked. “We can hardly hold one and just happen to invite a demon.”

“What if he crashed it?” Gabriel asked. “A room full of angels, you know, that’s a temptation no demon could resist.”

“And what would we tell Aziraphale?” Michael demanded. “Why would we have a ball? Balls are for dancing, and angels don’t dance.”

“Aziraphale does,” Gabriel said. “I’ve seen him.”

There was a brief pause as all of the Archangels considered this, and then dismissed it as yet another reason Aziraphale was too much of an odd duck for them to comprehend. Gabriel reached over and took the book from Sandalphon.

“In this, the first thing Mrs. Bennet does to get her daughter and Mr. Bingley together- once their acquaintance has been established- is to have her daughter come down with illness to trespass upon Mr. Bingley’s hospitality.”

“Are you proposing we have Aziraphale come down with illness so the Demon Crowley will nurse him back to health? He would probably just take advantage of the opportunity and destroy him.”

“He can’t get ill anyway,” Michael reminded them all. “He’s an _ angel.” _

“Demons can get ill,” Gabriel pointed out, though he didn’t bother saying how he knew this. “And there’s always injuries.”

“I’m all for injuring a demon,” Uriel said, “but how can we guarantee Aziraphale would then heal him? Avoiding smiting him for his own convenience is one thing but there’s a line I’m sure he’ll draw.”

“I don’t think he will,” Gabriel said. “I’ve talked to him about Crowley, you know. He always speaks rather admiringly of him. I think if we were to drop an injured Crowley on his doorstep, he wouldn’t be able to resist nursing him.”

“Admiringly?” Uriel said, horrified. “Of a _ demon?” _

“Of an Adversary. You know, respect for a worthy opponent. And there’s still his preference for keeping _ this _ Adversary, as opposed to getting a new one. What I’m _ saying,” _ he said, lest any of them think he was implying Aziraphale was straying, which he obviously wasn’t, “Is that he likes the unique challenge that comes from keeping Crowley in check.”

“Perhaps that’s what She meant when She said the seeds were already there,” Michael speculated. “Do you think the Demon Crowley feels the same respect and admiration for a worthy Adversary that Aziraphale does?”

“Yes,” Gabriel and Sandalphon said at once, and Sandalphon added, “Or anyway, he thinks no other angel could thwart him so thwartingly as Aziraphale does.”

_ “Thwartingly?” _ asked an incredulous Michael, and Sandalphon shrugged.

“All right,” Uriel said, “So we injure one of them, and the other nurses him back to health? And from there sparks fly, the seeds of love blossom into the… blooms of love, and the Plan is back on track.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Gabriel said with a chuckle, standing and rubbing his hands together, an affectation he’d picked up from the various business humans he tried to emulate. “I say we injure Crowley, it will look more believable than if we injured Aziraphale.”

“How do we get him near Aziraphale once he’s injured, though?”

“I think if we just lure him nearby, then we can let proximity do the rest. If Aziraphale wants to know why he was attacked near the shop, we’ll just say it was an instinctive reaction to finding a demon near his domain.”

“I’ll do it,” Gabriel said. “I’m Aziraphale’s supervisor, he won’t question me being near the shop like he might one of you lot.”

And left- the normal way this time. The remaining three Archangels waited until they were sure he was gone before Michael summoned a phone from nowhere.

“Not that I don’t doubt Gabriel’s ideas,” Michael said, “But I think this would go smoothly if we knew just a bit more about the Demon Crowley than an angel can find out.”

-/-

Unknown to them, Gabriel was thinking something very similar. As soon as he was well away from the teahouse, he took out his own phone, and dialed one of the only six numbers he actually ever used. It was a long time before there was an answer- hardly surprising, the person on the other end liked to keep him waiting (and knew it was him, he being the only one who ever called).

Finally, though-

“What do you want, firefly?”

“Honeybee,” he said, and wondered- not for the first time- whether it had been wise to choose codenames that sounded like cutesy petnames. True, codenames were important, but he found himself addressing Beelzebub- for that was the ‘honeybee’ on the other end- fondly whenever he called her that. He shook the thought away and said, “I need a favor.”

“We’re even right now, you’re going to owe me. What do you want?”

“It’s about the Demon Crowley…”

-/-

While Michael was interrogating Ligur about anything he could tell about the Demon Crowley, and Gabriel was doing something very similar with Beelzebub, Raphael was returning to heaven from Tadfield to report a job well done.

“The boy has friends now,” she said. “Three, one for each of the lesser horsepeople, as ordered. What he does with them remains to be seen, but I did what You asked.”

As her sentence ended, she felt warmth surround her, and let her Self ease out of her corporation to bask in her Mother’s light.

**You’ve done very well, Raphael,** She said. **I chose right in giving you this task.** There was the faintest sensation of a sigh. **Though sometimes I despair that you may be the only sensible child I have.**

What Raphael wanted to say to this was, “You threw out a third of our number for defying you, and left those who remained with no indication that we wouldn’t suffer a similar fate if we didn’t keep on our best behavior. All of us, to a one, has had to live with that hanging over us for eons. While I also despair of my siblings at times, you, specifically, don’t get to judge us for how we deal with the trauma you caused us.”

However, knowing about one’s trauma and being able to address it in one’s head is very different than being able to address the one who caused it, and Raphael was just as afraid of Falling as her siblings. So she bit her tongue and instead said, “Metatron said you have a new job for me?”

**Yes, the other Archangels are already working on it. It has to do with my Principality Aziraphale and the Demon Crowley.**

Oh, joy, more of Her shipping nonsense. Raphael settled back into her corporation- so much easier to talk business this way- and folded her arms, waiting instructions.

**There’s a very important part of the Plan that is dependent on the two of them being a couple.**

“Would that be the Great Plan, or the Ineffable Plan?” and, when she was not reprimanded, “And they’re not getting there on their own, so you got the Archangels involved? That sounds like a dumpster fire waiting to happen.”

**It does, doesn’t it? That’s where you come in- try to keep them on track.**

“I’ll do my best, but, you know, you could avoid all the trouble if you just told them what’s going on.”

**Not at all. If they know their coupling is required for the Plan, anything they do will not be to their own choice.**

“But-”

**Raphael,** and there it was. Her infinite patience had run out. Raphael straightened. **I forbid you to tell Aziraphale or Crowley that their relationship is necessary for the Plan. They must get there on their own. Understand?**

“Yes, Mother.”

**Good. Now go make sure your siblings don’t destroy the earth before the War.**

-/-


	2. Part the First: In Which Machinations Are Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of Operation: Make Aziraphale And Crowley Kiss is underway. Meanwhile, Raphael is metaphorically banging her head on a wall over how stupid her siblings can be about certain things.

-/-

Raphael appeared with the other Archangels at the same time that Gabriel rejoined them, creating the tidy effect of a stormcloud coming down to materialize into two people: the lightning into Gabriel, the cloud funneling into Raphael. She exchanged a look with her brother, eyebrows raised, and met his triumphant grin. Oh dear. That didn’t bode well.

“I’ve kickstarted everything,” he said. “The Demon Crowley was on his way to Aziraphale’s shop when I hit him with a bolt of holy lightning. Not very hard!” he added, when Raphael glared at him in shock. “Just enough to lay him up for awhile. Holy injuries are the only ones we can guarantee will take time to heal. What are you doing here?”

“God sent me to keep an eye on you lot,” she said. “And I should have gotten here sooner! What do you mean, going about injuring someone just for your plans?”

“Raphael, please,” Michael said. “It’s just a demon, and this way, Aziraphale will have time to fall in love while he nurses him back to health.”

Raphael decided not to admit that Aziraphale was already in love, and instead said, “Just a demon?  _ Just _ a demon? He’s a demon your Mother has deemed worthy of the love of one of our own! That should be enough for you to care about his well-being, even if him being a  _ living person _ isn’t enough for you.”

“Oh, come,” Sandalphon said. “You know what a bleeding heart Aziraphale is. Loves everyone, that one. He won’t be able to resist nursing the demon back to health, it’s the perfect plan.”

“That’s not the  _ point,” _ Raphael insisted, and then sighed. “Never mind, it’s done now. Whatever. Hopefully you’re right, and you haven’t just killed him for no reason.”

-/-

Crowley was having a very strange day.

First, Beelzebub had called him, and sent him to spy on his angelic Adversary and find out what heaven were up to right now. That hadn’t been  _ that _ strange, really; he wasn’t often ordered to spy on Aziraphale, but on the occasion he was, he usually used it as an excuse to take Aziraphale out for dinner or something, and Aziraphale could tell him the bits that he felt allowed to tell, and Crowley could pass that on, and it all worked out.

But then he’d gotten to the shop and was about to approach the door when a bolt of holy lightning had come out of nowhere and zapped him. He collapsed backwards against his car, clutching his arm, which had gone numb, and tried to stagger to the door on legs that were also going numb- aw, fuck, this was bad.

Was he going to discorporate? It would really suck to discorporate; last time he’d been discorporated Dagon had set him copying lines on a blackboard that wiped itself clean as fast as he could write for six years before letting him have a body again. He was pretty sure he still had chalkdust on his tail in the dimension where he kept the bits of his Self that wouldn’t fit in his corporation.

Just as the world was starting to pop and spot and fade away, Aziraphale appeared at the shop door and hurried over to him. Warm, strong arms got under him, hauling him to presumably his feet, not that he could tell, since he couldn’t feel them- and that was bad, too, he couldn’t feel Aziraphale’s arms tight around him while he was guided into the bookshop.

Crowley managed to stay conscious through sheer force of will long enough for Aziraphale to get him to the backroom, and then he didn’t have anything left: he made a noise that was really just a string of consonants and collapsed in the general direction of the couch, which was helpful enough to be under him when he landed.

And then unconsciousness pulled him under.

-/-

Aziraphale pursed his lips in thought as he stared down at Crowley’s unconscious form. Holy lightning- that was Gabriel’s thing, or at least Gabriel was the first one to come to mind associated with holy lightning. But if Gabriel had spotted the demon near his bookshop and felt the need to zap him—

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said faintly. Gabriel wouldn’t be happy if he found Crowley in the shop, especially an injured Crowley. Aziraphale had managed to make Gabriel accept that it was easier not to discorporate Crowley and get saddled with a new Adversary whose wiles he didn’t know, but he didn’t think he could extend that to not finishing the job his superior had started.

And what if this was a  _ test? _ What if Gabriel wanted to see how Aziraphale reacted to an injured demon on his doorstep? What if they had discovered that he and Crowley were— were  _ fraternizing _ and he wanted to see if it was true?

“I can hear you fretting even unconscious, angel,” Crowley said, and groaned. “Please calm down.”

“How can I, dear boy?” Aziraphale fretted. “If Gabriel felt the need to zap you— oh, what happens if he comes  _ back? _ He may want to finish the job.” He huffed. “You can’t stay here. Are you okay to travel? I can teleport you back to your flat—“

“Not going to stay and look after me?” Crowley asked. “I’m hurt.”

“Of course I’ll come look after you,” Aziraphale said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll just come overland the easy way, to avoid suspicion. It won’t be hard to explain that I banished a demon from my shop, but it will be hard to explain if I  _ follow. _ No, I’ll send you on ahead, and then come on foot and take care of you in your flat.”

“My  _ everything _ hurts,” Crowley pouted, and then was gone as Aziraphale banished him to his flat in Mayfair.

-/-

“It’s been a few hours,” Gabriel said, over coffee a few hours later. 

Well, some of the others were having coffee, and Raphael had gone so far as to order a slice of  _ chocolate cake, _ but Gabriel had not yet succumbed to the temptation of sullying— well, you know how it goes. Anyway, back to the matter at hand— the Archangels had gone to a cafe and had spent the last several hours drinking coffee and- in Raphael’s case- eating cake, engaging in casual, friendly conversation. Currently their topic was which song in The Sound of Music was the superior, but Gabriel was getting impatient for results to their plan.

“Been a few hours since what?” Sandalphon said, taking a sip of Uriel’s coffee and wrinkling their nose as the sheer amount of sugar in it.

“Since I zapped the Demon Crowley,” he said. “Do you think they’re falling in love yet?”

Raphael rolled her eyes, but Michael put chin in hand and considered the question seriously before, “I think it will take more than a few hours. They have a history of antagonism with one another; bleeding heart or not, I don’t think he would fall in love just because Crowley is injured.”

“A day, then?” Raphael drawled, stabbing her cake irritably. “Or maybe two, just to be on the safe side.”

“No, I think it would take more than just two,” Michael said, taking her suggestion seriously. “I think this injury will only be the first step— sowing the seeds, to borrow a human expression. It will take further interference to nurture those seeds and allow them to grow.”

“Perhaps one of us should check on him,” Uriel suggested. “Just to see.”

“Are we certain that’s wise?” Michael asked. “If we appear while he’s harboring a demon, he may panic.”

“And if we find a demon there one of us can always tell him that his actions are commendable and show a true heavenly attitude,” Raphael pointed out. “It may make things go more smoothly.”

“No, he’d never believe that,” Gabriel said, waving his hand as if shooing the idea away like a particularly irritating fly. “We’re angels. We don’t commend each other for nursing sick demons back to health.”

“I like Raphael’s suggestion.” Uriel stood. “I’ll go. My domain is Mercy, he may believe it more readily if it comes from me.”

“If you’re sure,” Gabriel said, still dubious. He picked up Uriel’s abandoned coffee and sniffed it, then stuck his tongue to touch the tip to the coffee, and sneezed rather violently. “Foul stuff. Don’t know how you can drink it.”

Raphael ‘hmm’ed, and took the coffee from him and downed it in one go, not breaking eye contact once.

-/-

Uriel appeared at the shop just as Aziraphale was leaving— for the second time; he’d been to the flat and then come back to retrieve a few things, since it looked like it might take a day or two for the effects of the lightning to wear off, and Aziraphale had invited himself to stay and look after him while he recovered.

“Uriel!” He took a step backwards at the sight of the Archangel standing outside his bookshop. “Oh. Wh-what are you doing here?” He glanced down at the tartan carpetbag in his hand, and back up quickly.

“Gabriel said he zapped a demon outside of your shop earlier.”

“Ah. Yes.” Aziraphale glanced at his bag again, and surreptitiously moved it behind his back. “Ghastly stuff, that. He collapsed right outside my door! I banished him immediately, of course.”

Uriel froze. Banished? Shit! “You- erm, I mean- Gabriel and I actually assumed that you, well, you’re so  _ compassionate _ about people being hurt that we, we expected you to have nursed him back to health, actually.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. His bag hit the ground behind him. “No! Ah, that is to say- well, of course not. My compassion is for humanity- and while I do feel sympathy for our once-brethren in hell, a demon who… came so near my territory…” He gave a weak smile that was probably meant to be sincere but came out looking more constipated than anything. “Well, he had it coming, didn’t he?”

Uriel smiled too, a bit forced. “Yes. Of course. It was only natural for you to banish him- I’m sorry we ever doubted you.”

“Yes, well.” He picked up his bag and fidgeted with the handle. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There was a brief pause where it looked like there would be nothing more and he’d be allowed to go on his way, and then Uriel said, “Do you have any books about matchmaking?”

“Yes. Many.” He smiled a little more. “You know, Gabriel was in here earlier asking about something similar. Are you all taking an interest in human literature?”

“We’re- ah-” Uriel scrambled for an explanation, and, “We’restartingabookclub.” Aziraphale lit up like an angel in the presence of the lord, suddenly beaming for all the world like a… beam. Uriel frowned, and added, “Archangels only.”

It was like flipping a switch. Aziraphale looked a little like he had when Uriel had popped in to let him know about the Flood.

“Right, well. I- I do have some books to- to suggest…” He brought his hand up; at the height of the rise, there was a book in it. He frowned at it, and it vanished, only to be replaced a second later with a different book, this one with a paper cover. “Here you are, my dear. Much Ado About Nothing is a classic, with a strong matchmaking theme. You might consider assigning parts and reading it out loud as a group, Shakespeare really is meant to be spoken, not read. Do, ah.” His expression crumpled, though the smile remained, if a bit wobbly. He looked close to tears. “Do let me know if you… all enjoy it…”

Uriel looked into that wobbly smile, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to be far away from the shop. A flash, a scent of smoke, and Aziraphale was alone in front of his shop once more.

-/-

Uriel rejoined the others at the coffee shop, where they had moved on from the songs of the Sound of Music to stage versus screen version.

“Welcome back,” Michael said calmly. “What did you learn?”

“We were wrong. Aziraphale banished the Demon Crowley from his shop.” The book thumped onto the table. “But he did give me this. More matchmaking suggestions.”

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing!” Raphael scooped up the book and flipped through it. “Excellent choice, this one will work far better.”

“You’re familiar with this book?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah, it’s Shakespeare! He was loads of fun. Think he wrote a sonnet to me once…” She’d found the page she was looking for, and started reading:

‘This can be no trick: the  
conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of  
this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it  
seems her affections have their full bent. Love me!  
why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured:  
they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive  
the love come from her; they say too that she will  
rather die than give any sign of affection. I did  
never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy  
are they that hear their detractions and can put  
them to mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a  
truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis  
so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving  
me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor  
no great argument of her folly, for I will be  
horribly in love with her.”

When she stopped, all four of her fellows were watching her with rapt attention, eyebrows high.

“That was… very good,” Gabriel said. “What is it?”

“It’s our next plan,” she said. “Much better than injuries, and only a little bit tricky. We just put the bug in both their ears that the other is in love with him, along with some subtle indication that it’s fine they act on it, and they’ll do the rest.”

And didn’t mention that they  _ were _ in love with each other, so it wouldn’t even be a jest.

-/-

Meanwhile, in Mayfair, Aziraphale tended Crowley’s plants while Crowley slept off his injury. There wasn’t really much to be done in the way of care- Aziraphale could only make sure he was comfortable while his body did the work for him. But if the Archangels came back to finish the job, Aziraphale would be waiting and ready to- to-

-well, to do something. He was good at obfuscation. He’d make them leave.

“You’re all growing so wonderfully,” he told the plants in the meantime. “He must take such wonderful care of you, for you to be so beautiful- oh! Poor dear, you’ve got a spot.” He leaned closer to a trembling fern trying desperately to hide the small brown speck on its leaves. “Here, let me just heal that for you- there you are, dear, isn’t that so much better?”

-/-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text from Much Ado About Nothing, from Shakespeare.
> 
> (Come on, you didn't think I was going to have Catherine Tate as a fancast in a story about matchmaking without having Much Ado come up, now did you?)


	3. Part the Third: Lies, Lies, Truer Than You Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archangels and Demon lords encourage eavesdropping in their subordinates. Meanwhile, Gabriel has a whole entire Feeling and panics about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, all acting done in this chapter is very bad.

-/-

After a little while going over their plan, Gabriel had been sent to check on Aziraphale. The moment he was out of the room, he slipped away to call Beelzebub. He’d very carefully not brought up that the book Raphael had brought required both sides to hear the lies about each other: all the same he knew it would be necessary for the plan, and therefore the Plan, for him to involve Beelzebub’s help.

The fact that this gave him a chance to call her, and talk to her again so soon after the last time, was not something he was going to think about. It was just a side effect, and he could appreciate working with someone who appreciated the stress he was under.

“I still don’t understand why it’s zo important to make Crowley and your Principality fall in love,” she said, once he’d done explaining what he needed.

“Nor do I,” he admitted. “But we both want the Plan to succeed, so if it needs them to, you know,  _ get squelchy, _ then it’s in both of our best interests to push them that way. Raphael’s idea is a good one, and since the last one didn’t work…”

“I told you it was a ztupid plan.”

“And yet you agreed to it.”

“Of course. Even failing, you zapped Crowely. That waz funny.”

“That’s very cruel,” he observed mildly, and thought that Beelzebub would get along quite well with Sandalphon, and added, “So you’ll do it?”

“Yes. But that’z two you owe me now.”

“Yes, I know. Don’t worry, honeybee, I’m keeping track.” He grinned a smug grin, and could almost see her bristling on the other end of the line. She always bristled when he called her honeybee. It was cute, which was not dignified for a prince of hell and therefore antagonistic and completely allowable within the perimeters of propriety for angels.

“Shut up firefly. Anyway, it’z going to take a few dayz for Crowley to recover from you zapping him, so we’ll need to put things off a bit on our end.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m the brains of this Arrangement and you’re nothing but a pretty face, dumbazz.”

Antagonism. Very proper, very reassuring. He gave another smug grin. He knew how to respond to this. “You think I’m pretty.”

“Pretty and stupid,” she agreed. “If you weren’t such a dickhead it’d be the perfect combination.”

“You’re a demon, you like that I’m a dickhead,” he said, before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue. This was not going in a good direction. There couldn’t be anything about him that a demon could find appealing. He cleared his throat. “Or at least, what you consider a dickhead, which is anything that goes against your demonic instincts, of course.”

There was a long silence on the other end, in which he had time to wonder if she’d set the phone down and stormed off (wouldn’t be the first time), before she said, slowly, “Right. Of coursze. You’re a heavenly dickhead, very much outzide of what a demon would find… appealing.”

“Exactly.” Another silence, and, “I’ll, um, I should go— let me know when Crowley recovers enough to engage with the plan. I think it will be best if we do it at the same time.”

“Of courze.”

“Right.” More silence. “Thanks, honeybee.”

He hung up, and said a swear. After this he’d have to make sure there was a lot of time before he saw Beelzebub again. And probably he should do something about his heart, which was fluttering wildly in his chest. It wasn’t like it could hurt him, but it was such a nuisance. He banished it. He could circulate his own blood for awhile, or better yet, slip up to heaven and out of his corporation until it had gotten a handle on itself.

-/-

“Explain to me again why we’re doing this,” Dagon said, a week later, when they had given Crowley enough time to recover from being zapped and summoned him, with the excuse to report on what he’d learned about Principality Aziraphale while he was "spying".

“According to our sources, it’s absolutely crucial to the Plan for these two to be a couple. It’s in our best interests— probably something has gone wrong somewhere, I don’t know.”

“Right, sources,” Dagon hissed. “So your Archangel boyfriend asks you to play matchmaker with him, and you’re just rolling with it?”

“Oh, shut up. This will benefit hell, and we get to mess with Crowley. There’s literally no downside.”

“Except that one of our own will be wrapped around the wing of an angel. How do you know this isn’t that prettyboy trying to gain the upper hand over you?”

Beelzebub snorted. “Can you really see  _ Gabriel _ of all angels doing something that isn’t a direct order from the Almighty?”

“I dunno.” Dagon gave her a knowing smirk. “Is your little  _ Arrangement _ a direct order from the Almighty, d’you think?”

Beelzebub glared. Dagon brought up an excellent point, of course, which she was never going to admit. Before she could find a different argument, such as ‘I outrank you’, Dagon leaned back in the chair with a grin, flashing several rows of immensely pointy teeth.

“I do like the idea of messing with Crowley, though. Flash bastard. It’d serve him right if all this backfired and he got smitten for it.”

“He already got zapped once,” Beelzebub pointed out. “But don’t let him know we know about that part.”

There was a break in the conversation there, when her secretary came over the channels to let her know that Crowley was on his way to the conference room. She scrambled over to her meeting throne [1] and slouched in it in a rather bored position, staring apathetically at the ceiling. Dagon took a seat on the table, back to the door to make deniability more plausible.

“What was that you were telling me about Crowley, Dagon,” she said, as soon as Crowley stepped into the hallway, now in earshot. Eavesdroping was not polite, of course, but it was a perfectly acceptable demonic activity, and having heard his name, there was no way Crowley would politely leave or announce his presence until he’d heard all they had to say about him.

“According to earth observation, the Principality Aziraphale is deeply in love with him.”

There was a crash outside the door. Beelzebub swore, and made a startled cry to cover the noise, lest he worry about being heard.

“Principality Aziraphale?” she said loudly, exchanging an eyeroll with Dagon. “Surely you’re joking.”

“I would never jest about something like this,” Dagon said. “It’s true. The earth observation crew have compiled irrefutable evidence on the matter.”

“Very well, tell me the evidence.”

Dagon gave her a panicked look, while in the corridor, there was another crash, this time rather like a body landing heavily on the floor, followed by a muffled, bitten off swear. Beelzebub buried her face in one hand, making a ‘get on with it’ gesture at Dagon with the other.

“Ah— yes, evidence. Hem. Evidence. It’s— it’s largely, you know,  _ visual _ evidence, you know. Longing looks, that sort of thing.”

“Are you sure the Principality isn’t just thinking longingly of smiting Crowley? I know I would do, in his shoes.”

“I assure you, my lord, I have seen the evidence myself. The Principality Aziraphale is in love, or, possibly just constipated.”

Beelzebub removed her face from her hands to give Dagon an incredulous look, and said, “So what do you advise we do about this? Should we tell Crowley? It would be an advantage for him, to use the Principality’s love to his. Advantage.”

“Would Crowley be smart enough to pull something like that off, though?”

“Maybe not with an ordinary angel, but if Principality Aziraphale is fool enough to be in love with  _ Crowley _ of all demons—“

“Hmm, good point. Not like he’s got any of his heads on straight, if Crowley is the target of his affections.”

“Precisely.” Beelzebub paused here, slipping into one of her flies to spy on Crowley in the corridor. Se was satisfied to see that he’d turned and taken off back in the direction of the escalator like— well, like a bat out of hell, honestly. She pulled back into her main corporation and gave Dagon a triumphant grin. “Like a lamb to slaughter, Dagon. Excellent work.”

Dagon flashed a mouthful of teeth and grinned.

-/-

[1- Not nearly as nice as her actual throne.]

-/-

_ Shit shit shitshitshit! _ Crowley dashed through the corridors of hell and back up to the escalator, thoughts racing ahead of him to Aziraphale. He knew something like this was going to happen one day, but he’d always hoped— he’d always hoped that it would only be on  _ his _ end. But no! Earth observation had to go and see Aziraphale’s pining looks, oh, why was this happening  _ now? _

This was his punishment, he rationalized. He’d tempted Aziraphale into nursing him back to health after Gabriel zapped him and now he was paying for that cosy week in his flat. He blessed himself for a fool— he should have  _ known _ he’d have to pay for that.

He needed to get somewhere he could check on Aziraphale, where he could make sure he was okay before  _ disappearing. _ They shouldn’t be seen together for awhile, phone calls even were probably right out, but if hell knew, did heaven? Would Aziraphale be punished? He needed to know his angel was safe.

He bolted up the escalator two or three steps at a time, nearly tripping over his feet more often than usual and completely uncaring. All he cared about was getting to Aziraphale before any harm came to him.

-/-

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, as Michael and Sandalphon came into the shop. He tamped down on the panic that always tried to arise when head office checked in, and approached them with a welcoming smile. “Michael. Sandalphon. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Aziraphale,” Michael said, returning his smile with a more serene one.

“Hi, Aziraphale,” Sandalphon greeted at the same time, their smile a little more sadistic. Probably just a trick of the light— it wasn’t like there was any actual smiting going on.

“And what can I do for you both?”

“We’ve come to borrow more books for our bookclub,” Michael said. “We were hoping you could recommend something.”

Aziraphale’s smile became rather fixed. “Ah yes, your bookclub. The Archangels-only bookclub. That you’re starting. Using my books but not, erm, inviting me.”

Sandalphon tilted their head. “Is there a problem, Principality Aziraphale?”

“No no, no problem at all. What sort of books were you hoping for?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Michael said. “How about more stories about humans in love and courting?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, and then nodded. “Ah, of course. I have several. Wait one moment.”

He stepped into the stacks to where he kept the Banks books, and to get out from under their eyes so he could frown as hard as he liked about being excluded from a bookclub that was repeatedly being rubbed in his face.

He was in the middle of a good scowl while he chose between two novels when he heard Michael speak.

“Sandalphon, I just can’t believe what you say,” floated over to him, and he stiffened, not even breathing while he listened. Eavesdropping wasn’t very polite, of course, but Crowley did always say he was a  _ bit _ of a bastard, and it paid to know what was going on.

“It’s true,” Sandalphon replied. “I had it from the Earth Observation Deck myself. The Demon Crowley is in love with Aziraphale.”

The books hit the floor and Aziraphale’s heart started pounding in his chest. No!

“Everything all right over there?” Michael called, and Aziraphale grabbed up the books hastily, shoving one back into the shelves and grabbing the other without looking. Then he took the first back out of the shelf and carefully smoothed over the cover as an apology for mishandling it before returning it once more.

“Yes, quite well. Just a bit of a butterfingers, I’m afraid.” He stilled, willed his heart to still as well, and called, “There’s quite a few of these to choose from, you see, terribly sorry for the delay.”

“Quite all right,” Sandalphon called, and after a moment resumed their conversation with Michael, “Apparently he’s completely besotted.”

“But really, a demon? In love? Are they even capable of it?”

“Must do. The observation angels say that he follows Aziraphale to that park he likes and then gazes  _ longingly _ at him.”

Aziraphale barely had any room to be relieved that he, at least, was not suspected, because he was fretting so hard about Crowley. They knew! It was his greatest fear realized: he’d spent millennia working to ensure that their feelings not be discovered, and now here were Michael and Sandalphon gossiping about them like couple of ducks on the pond. Oh, Heavens, why was this happening  _ now? _

“Do you think we should tell Aziraphale?” Michael asked. “He should be on his guard against the demon’s wiles.”

“Best not,” Sandalphon replied. “You know how Aziraphale is. He may be flattered, or get ideas about making the demon Rise.”

“I doubt such a thing would be possible,” Michael said coolly, while a part of Aziraphale metaphorically retched at the idea. Crowley would be  _ miserable _ as an angel,  _ had _ been miserable, and he so  _ loved _ being naughty and tempting humans. Why in the world would Aziraphale ever wish to take that away from him?

(Okay, he might quite like to take the whole “eternity of torment” away from him. But he tried not to think too hard about the fate of demons after the War. It always ruined his appetite.)

“I dunno. We know humans can become angels, and demons are from the same original stock. And it’d be worth experimenting, if we had the time and a demon willing to play ball.”

Aziraphale couldn’t bear to listen anymore. The very idea! He emerged from the stacks without even looking at the book in his hand, and was satisfied that they cut their conversation off abruptly when he appeared.

“Here we go,” he said, and glanced at the title. “_The Woman Who Braved All_. A tale of forbidden love. I do hope your… terribly exclusive bookclub enjoys it.”

-/-

Michael and Sandalphon left a few minutes later, practically crowing their triumph. They were sure that it was only a matter of time before the pair addressed the feelings of love that had been planted between them, only a matter of time before their plan was a success.

“That was very clever,” Michael said, and Sandalphon preened at the praise.

“I was only concerned that Aziraphale might not think of pursuing a relationship as a natural reaction to learning the demon had feelings for him. But you know how Aziraphale is with his little  _ experiments.” _

“Yes, well done. Now all we need is an excuse to have them meet, and love will fly.”

In response, Sandalphon looked down at the book in their hand. “Well, as to that— Aziraphale  _ did _ say this book was about forbidden love, right?”

-/-

Aziraphale barely had more than a moment to panic after the pair left before his phone was ringing. He debated not answering, but it could be Crowley— in which case he definitely shouldn’t answer. On the other hand, it could be head office— oh, what a dilemma. He grabbed the phone.

“I am afraid we’re  _ quite _ closed,” he said, absently waving a hand and closing up the bookshop without putting much thought to it.

“It’s me,” came the slightly-hoarse voice on the other end.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale breathed, and his eyes darted around the shop as if he thought there might be more angels lurking in the stacks. “Crowley, you can’t call here anymore— something’s just happened, I heard the Archangels talking about—“ He cleared his throat and dropped his voice to say, “that  _ thing _ we don’t talk about.”

On the other end, Crowley hissed a few profanities. “It gets worse, angel. I just heard Dagon and Beelzebub talking about the same thing.”

Aziraphale’s heart stopped beating completely. “Oh- oh my dear, no, no, this is the worst I could possibly imagine- if it were only heaven- no, you  _ must _ leave, get off the planet for awhile- Alpha Centauri is nice this time of year-“

“Not without you. Listen, it’s not the worst case scenario. Hell only knows about  _ you _ and they think it’s a big joke so for now we’re safe—”

“Yes well heaven knows about  _ you _ and I’m- oh, you have no idea the sorts of things they were saying. They wanted me to make you  _ Rise, _ Crowley.”

“Eurgh.”

“Yes. Quite.”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley sighed. “Listen, we can figure this out. We’ll just… right, the Dowlings are going to be in America for a year soon. I’ll follow them, tell head office I’m still influencing him, that’ll give us some time apart. Your agents will still be in place and I’ll keep enough distance we can balance each other out that way, and the distance will… I don’t know, maybe after awhile they’ll forget or get distracted or, I don’t know, something like that. Okay?”

He spoke sense. And a year, in the grand scheme of things, in  _ their _ grand scheme of things, was not so long to be apart. But it would hurt to be separated in such a way, and Aziraphale couldn’t resist a soft, “I don’t like it.”

“Nor me,” Crowley admitted. “And thank you for not saying I told you so. You were right. I should have been more careful.”

“_We_ should have. But oh! it was  _ worth _ it, wasn’t it, darling?”

A choked noise came over the line, and Crowley said, “Best to cut it there, angel. Take care. I’ll see you again— well, when I can.”

“Yes. Goodbye. Stay safe.”

Even so, it was another, desperate,  _ agonizing _ minute or so before they did both hang up. Once he had, Aziraphale let out a choked little sob, and disappeared into his backroom to feel sorry for himself. Why, oh,  _ why _ was it all falling apart  _ now? _ There were still five years till Armageddon, he’d hoped to spend them side by side with Crowley, taking every moment he could to enjoy his friend’s company before it all fell apart.

-/-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, show of hands, who is not even a little bit surprised that I still managed to sneak some Ineffable Bureaucracy in there?


	4. Intermission: In The Year Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The intended couple put a few thousand miles between them. Meanwhile, Raphael has had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait till I was caught up over on Wattpad to post this bit but earlier Docs freaked out on me and I nearly lost this chapter. In the interest of not losing it again while I wrestle the version on my computer back into submission, I’m posting it now so it’s at least somewhere I can recover it.

It was a bit of a wrench for the matchmakers when Crowley disappeared to America for a year. They half-expected Aziraphale to follow the boy as well, but he remained behind, citing that he was needed here, in London, that he had work that needed to be done, that he had full confidence in his agents, that it would be best not to let the demon Crowley suspect his involvement—

They allowed his excuses. They didn’t want to push. Besides, they had a contingency plan. The book Aziraphale had last loaned them featured the answer to their problems, the means the titular Girl had managed to Brave All in order the win the heart of her love and ensure their happiness together. It would work, they were sure of it, it would give them the chance to put angel and demon together once and for all.

Six months into the time apart, Raphael decided to pay Aziraphale a visit.

“Raphael!” he said when she came in, expression lighting up in a way that it did not do for any of the other Archangels. “What a  _ pleasant _ surprise, I haven’t seen you since— oh, ages, I think. That play you accompanied Crowley and I to.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “Can we speak somewhere privately?”

“Of course, right this way.” 

He led her to the backroom, and offered her refreshment. She took the offer willingly, another thing that set her apart from the other Archangels, and he poured them both a glass of wine. Only once they had made themselves comfortable did she tell him what she had come here to tell him.

“That play you two took me to see,” she said. “Much Ado About Nothing. One of your favorites, is it?”

“It’s Crowley’s favorite, yes. And I  _ do _ enjoy it very much as well.”

“Well explain something to me, then. When Benedick and Beatrice overhear the others discussing their supposed affection for one another, why did they believe it so readily? I mean, it was apparent that it was meant for their ears.”

“Ah. You see, that’s humans for you. They’re a bit thick sometimes, and take things at face value.”

“Right, humans.” She sighed. “Aziraphale, you’re not an idiot, please don’t act like it.” She stood, and handed over the copy of Much Ado About Nothing that had been lent to the Archangel bookclub. “I have to go. Here’s your book back— think about everything I’ve said, please.”

And she was gone. Aziraphale reached over to take his copy of Much Ado back, and spend a very long time— an embarrassingly long time, he would decide later— staring down at it, Raphael’s words replaying over and over in his head.

The metaphorical lightbulb went off like a siren. He dropped the book.

-/-

Crowley hated golf. True, golf courses were his influence, and he was quite proud of that— great swaths of land and resources were being poured into maintaining a game that was created in and for a land that just had that sort of environment naturally, wasting land and water and time every day they existed, while also making rich people feel smug and proud and poor people feel angry and resentful— it was the sort of demonic genius that made him so much better suited for his job than, say, Hastur- to use a completely arbitrary example.

But that didn’t mean that  _ he _ liked playing golf. Still,  _ Dowling _ liked playing golf, and Crowley, having insinuated himself with the Dowlings as a family friend, had to play golf with Dowling in order to have access to Warlock.

(His darling boy was growing up to be a right terror. Crowley was proud, and maybe even Proud, but he missed having Aziraphale there to sit calmly until he was done with his tantrum and then ask him, in a very gentle voice, if he felt better now. Aziraphale might not like children very much, but he was better with them than Crowley had given him credit for.)

It was his turn to tee off when his phone rang. Partially to put things off, and partially to annoy his companions, he leaned on his club to answer rather than move aside to give them a chance while he spoke.

“This is AJ, you know what to do,” he said, as obnoxiously as possible.

“Crowley, it’s me,” Aziraphale said on the other end, and before Crowley could do more than change his obnoxious look to a concerned frown, went on with, “What’s your favorite of Shakespeare’s plays?”

“You already know the answer to that, angel, it’s Much Ado About Nothing. Why?”

“Well, you see—“

Crowley listened. It was the first time he’d heard Aziraphale’s voice in six months, and even if it was only the first time in six hours, that was far more interesting than playing golf. He ignored the looks he was getting from Dowling and their other golf buddies, who would very much like to get on with their game even if Crowley wasn’t going to, content that he was wearing their souls down that little bit more by inconveniencing them so much.

Aziraphale could go on when given his reign- rambling in fretful circles about Archangels stealing the plot of Much Ado About Nothing, and wondering why they would want the pair of them to court one another, and worrying that heaven might be planning to try making Crowley Rise. Crowley sighed and cut him off after awhile with, “Calm down, angel, I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ll talk once I’m with you.”

“Oh- oh, all right.” 

Down the other end, Crowley could practically hear Aziraphale fidgeting with his ring, and added, more quietly, “Listen, we’ll sort this out, all right? Just sit tight.”

Once he’d hung up, he turned back to his… associates.

“Well, gentlemen, sorry to leave you short, but something’s come up at home that requires my attention.”

One of the not-Dowling men smirked. “Gotta go see to the little woman, huh?”

Crowley shot him a glare, trying to decide the best way to respond, and then grinned like a snake. “Something like that. My husband is awfully fretful about some family business that’s come up and I need to go take care of him before he twists himself into knots over it.” Grinning even wider at the way all three flinched away from his words, he tossed his club over his shoulder and sauntered away, not whistling casually only because he’d never quite got the knack for it.

Honestly, with all the trouble he went to make sure he was always telegraphing ‘gay man’ to any humans around him, it was their own fault if they’d assumed anything otherwise. ‘Little woman’. Tch. And people thought  _ he _ was oblivious.

-/-

“Why would the Archangels want to set us up?” Crowley asked an hour later, while he and Aziraphale worked through a bottle of wine and went over the details of Aziraphale’s theory for the fifth time. “And why would Beelzebub and Dagon be working with them? It doesn’t make  _ sense, _ angel.”

“I  _ know _ it doesn’t make sense! But it still adds up!” Aziraphale sighed, and started explaining again. “First, Uriel comes to me and asks to borrow a book about matchmaking. I offer a copy of Much Ado About Nothing. A week later, both of us overhear our superiors discussing the revelation of each of us having feelings about one another, and six months later, after you disappear, Raphael finally returns my copy, points out that plot point, and then tells me not to act like an idiot.” He tossed his hands up in surrender. “What other explanation  _ is _ there?”

“I don’t know!” Crowley tossed his own hands up, and poured another glass of wine, gesturing it at Aziraphale to cut his point. (It didn’t spill, because Aziraphale’s wineglasses knew better than to let wine spill by now.) “But let’s say you’re right, all right? Let’s say heaven and hell are really trying to- to set us up. Why? What do either of them stand to gain from it?”

“I can’t imagine,” Aziraphale admitted. “If hell weren’t so clearly involved I’d wonder if it had to do with what Sandalphon said about seeing if it were possible to make you Rise, but I  _ can’t _ see hell agreeing to something like that, you’re too valuable to them, even if they were willing to lose any demon to heaven at all.”

“They could be trying to make you Fall,” Crowley pointed out. “Hell, I mean. They might be curious to see which one would happen. Maybe they’ve got a bet on, or something. I don’t know. I don’t know! It doesn’t make sense!”

“True. But my dearest…” And then Aziraphale was in his personal space, standing intimately close, closer than he had since Rome. Crowley flinched away from, and then leaned into, the hesitant touch of Aziraphale’s hand coming up to splay over his heart. “If they are, if us being together is somehow a goal for our superiors- would you take it? This chance? Wouldn’t you like to be together without fear, without looking over your shoulder constantly? This-  _ thing _ we don’t talk about. Wouldn’t you like to put a name to it? To  _ talk _ about it, to be  _ able _ to talk about it?”

Part of Crowley crumpled at the desperate longing in Aziraphale’s eyes. He covered the hand on his chest with his own, and with his other dragged the angel into a crushing embrace. Six months ago he’d have probably jumped at the chance Aziraphale was presenting him, ready to laugh all the way to the altar with Aziraphale while their superiors assumed they had succeeded in more than merely giving the two permission to do something they were already doing as it was.

That was before he’d felt the panic that had welled up when he thought Aziraphale was in danger from hell, before he thought they’d been discovered.

“Oh Aziraphale,” he breathed, and dared a kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s dandelion curls, just the barest pressure. “Of course I’m willing. But only- only if we’re sure. I’m not risking you. Not again.”

“I can’t believe you’re the one telling  _ me _ to slow down,” Aziraphale said, and Crowly let out a weak laugh that lacked all feeling to it.

-/-

Three hours, several bottles of wine, and one sobering up later, angel and demon had a plan for figuring out what heaven’s game was. Crowley was sitting upside down watching Aziraphale pace; with a huff and a sigh, he swung his legs around and stood up.

“All right, best be getting back, then. See you in six months, angel.”

He teleported rather than risk being seen leaving the shop. Once he was gone, Aziraphale began clearing away their glasses and bottles, considering the plan they had discussed. He knew the plot of The Girl Who Braved All well enough that he could guess, to within four possibilities, what the next stage of the Archangels plans would be, but he also felt that with the right words in their ear, he could narrow things down to the one that suited him and Crowley.

Well, that shouldn’t be too hard. As he’d learned over the past thousand years, he was  _ very _ good at tempting- and it worked even better when the person being tempted assumed they had the upper hand.

-/-

Raphael was surprised to see Aziraphale in heaven, given that he tended to avoid his home like the plague, but more importantly she was surprised to see he looked immensely cheerful. He was also carrying two books. Maybe that was why he looked cheerful.

“Hello, Aziraphale,” she said. “What brings you up?”

“Just given my latest report to Gabriel,” he said, and gesturing with the books added, “And a few more suggestions for your incredibly exclusive Archangels-only bookclub.”

“Yup, we definitely have one of those. What books did you bring?”

“Well, I thought perhaps you might like a change in genre, so I brought Phantom of the Opera- a classic, very famous, it has an opera made about it, you know, I wonder if Sandalphon will like it-” He handed her the book and held up the other. “-and Ella Enchanted. Modern rewrite of an very old tale from the oral tradition, written for a young audience but still quite charming all the same- it has a movie, but only loosely based on it-”

“Aziraphale, you’re rambling.”

“My apologies.” He stopped talking, and handed her the second book. “I do hope your Archangels-only bookclub will enjoy reading those books. Pip pip!”

Once he was gone, Raphael stared down at the two books in her hand. Phantom of the Opera she was a  _ little _ familiar with, since Sandalphon had a habit of dragging her to the Opera to study earth music, but Ella Enchanted she’d never heard of. She frowned. It would take a miracle to read these two books in the ten or so minutes to reach Gabriel’s office-

-ten minutes later, she stopped outside Gabriel’s office, a grin stretching her face wide. Oh,  _ clever _ Aziraphale!  _ Wonderful. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, how hard am I telegraphing the next bit of the plan? Should be at least fairly obvious, I think...


	5. Part the Fourth: Stop and Stare At the Spectacle of Idiocy Around You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Matchmakers all conjoin at a charity ball to enact the final part of their plan. Meanwhile, the couple have a plan of their own to put into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually vastly different than what I originally intended for the last plan, but Raphael swooped in at the beginning of the intermission and derailed my plans. I like this better though.
> 
> (What is a matchmaking story without a ball, honestly? I'm pretty sure there's a law or something.)

-/-

Six months later, the Dowlings returned to their London estate and Crowley returned not far behind. It was time for the matchmakers to put their plan into motion, and for the intended couple to enact theirs as well.

Raphael visited Crowley at his flat in Mayfair. She’d been told nothing about their doings, but they  _ must _ have a plan of their own, they simply  _ must- _ and they wouldn’t exactly tell her, but maybe she could tempt some hints out of him.

Besides, she hadn’t seen him since that time she’d crashed their Globe date. [1]

“Raphael!” he said, stunned to find the Archangel at his door.

For a long time the pair stood like that, she on his doorstep and he staring at her in alarm, but finally she gave him an exasperated sigh.

“Are you gonna invite me in or what?”

“Right, course.” 

He stepped back and let her in, following her through the flat while she looked around in interest. She stopped in front of the eagle statue.

“Did you steal this from a church? It reeks of desecrated holiness.”

He beamed in pride. “Right?” And, because she looked annoyed, added, “The church got bombed out. Back during the Blitz- Aziraphale and I had a bit of a kerfuffle with some Nazis, you know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she said, although her dealings were unpleasantly a bit more recent. She moved on again, making a casual tour of the main rooms before finally coming to a halt in front of his throne. “Nice chair.”

“Thank you,” he said, refusing to be embarrassed. When she took a seat in it, he added, “Anything I can do for you? Or did you just come to judge my decor?”

“Eh, six of one, half dozen of the other,” she shrugged. “I was wondering if you wanted to come shopping with me. I’ve got a job to do at a human ball soon and I need help putting together an appropriate outfit to blend in.”

“Ah. That explains why you came to me and not Aziraphale.”

She snorted. “Crowley, I love Aziraphale dearly but I haven’t trusted him with clothing advice in centuries.”

“Yes, Aziraphale would have you dressed like we were back in the Regency, I’d imagine.” He looked her over with a careful, critical eye, thoughts of clothing and fashion flashing through his mind. “Although, this corporation of yours has a frankly magnificent bosom, so a Regency look may actually be the way to go. But we’ll see what our options are.” He pushed to his feet and held out his arm, as though he himself were back in the Regency and Raphael was a delicate lady, not an Archangel capable of smiting him with a thought. “Shall we, then?”

-/-

[1- They’d eventually introduced her to Shakespeare to get rid of her.]

-/-

Their orders came the next day. Gabriel swaggered into the shop with smugness dancing in his eyes and his collar turned up higher than usual. “Aziraphale!” He boomed, arms held wide in greeting. “I have a new mission for you.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale set his tea carefully aside and adopted a more prim posture. “And what does heaven ask of me?”

“There’s an… event,” he said. “A charity ball, I believe it’s called? We’d like you to go and bless the proceedings— funds raised go to, oh, some hospital or other. We’ve already secured you an invitation, it should arrive sometime tomorrow. You know how  _ human _ messengers are.” 

And gave a smug little laugh, which Aziraphale carefully didn’t roll his eyes in response to.

“Of course,” he said instead. “I look forward to it. A ball, you say? I don’t have to dance, do I?”

Gabriel gave him that look he had: the one that said Aziraphale was being stupid. “Of course not. Don’t be absurd. Just, you know, go and mingle and inspire people to donate their money.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale fell silent, and cast a sideways glance at his cooling tea. Gabriel was still standing there expectantly. “Was there anything else you needed?”

“No, no. Just. It’s something called a… Masquerade Ball? Just wondering what sort of costume you would wear.”

“A masquerade ball! Oh, I have no idea— I would need to put some thought into it, surely. Hmm, oh, I don’t know… something  _ angelic, _ obviously. Oh!” His eyes lit up. “Perhaps I’ll wear a mask reminisce of my truest form! That would be appropriate, don’t you think?”

“You only have one face in this form,” Gabriel reminded him, but Aziraphale just waved that away.

“I’ll think of something. This is going to be fun.” He gave a delighted wiggle, one that wasn’t even affectation— this  _ was _ going to be fun.

-/-

Across the river, Crowley had just had a similar conversation with Dagon. He was long alone before his phone rang once, stopped, and then repeated the action a few seconds later. The signal. He grabbed it and dialed the shop.

“Gabriel just left,” Aziraphale said. “You?”

“Just finished telling Dagon all about my clever snake mask idea,” he confirmed. “Everything is ready to go on Saturday.”

“Wonderful. And maybe— if we’re right—”

“If we’re right, I’ll take you to the Ritz on Sunday and hold your hand the whole time.”

“Till Sunday, then,” Aziraphale said, hope glowing in his entire voice. “The first day of the rest of our lives.”

-/-

On Saturday, Aziraphale took a cab to the ball— with luck, he would be going home in the Bentley, but for now it was prudent that they not turn up at the ball together. Not when they suspected there were going to be multiple of their superiors there.

When he pulled up, his eyes swept over the crowd of attendees already gathering and heading inside. It looked like the first stage of his and Crowley’s plan was working— there were a few dozen black and red snake masks in the sea of costumes, and he spotted more than one mask based on ideas about cherubs— and principalities who had once been cherubs before getting demoted. He suppressed a pleased grin. Excellent. Crowley had done his part magnificently.

Speaking of Crowley, he now sought out the demon in earnest, eventually finding him lurking in a shadowy out of the way corner. Aziraphale took a moment to admire him from the distance: he looked absolutely stunning, dressed in a plain white suit with a gold vest. His hair had been smoothed back to his head, and his face was concealed by a black mask tied with bright red string, a striking contrast to his outfit.

Aziraphale was dressed very similarly, in a black suit with a red vest, white mask held in place by gold string. His hair, like Crowley’s, had been plastered down for the evening: his barber had worked hard to tame it, but his hair was too distinctive, and it was important that the pair be able to move unnoticed in the crowd.

He approached his friend finally, and no words were exchanged as Crowley held out his arm in offering, and the pair headed inside.

“Seen any of our lot yet?” Crowley asked.

“No, though I’ve only just arrived. You?”

“Beelzebub turned up about ten minutes ago, and Michael right after. Haven’t spotted anyone else yet.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, completely pointlessly as his mask hid his entire face from view, and looked around the room, scanning each face carefully. It was hard to tell with all the masks in place, of course, but he thought he saw a tell-tale flash of gold on a bare arm that suggested Uriel was the under the gold sun mask and the blue and white peplos; lurking by a plinth, a scarecrow figure in a toad mask was clearly, obviously Duke Hastur; and there, at the top of the wide staircase in a dark blue suit and golden cape with a beetle mask, was-

-ah. That was interesting.

-/-

Gabriel had been at this ball for nearly twenty minutes, and so far none of the cherubs or snakes he’d checked had turned out to be Aziraphale or the demon Crowley. It was very unfortunate that these costumes had turned out to be so popular: it might take all evening to check them all.

In the meantime, though- he spotted a diminutive figure in black and yellow, and approached, holding his own mask up to his face before bowing and saying, “Hello, bumblebee. Did you miss me?”

The figure turned around, and Gabriel found himself being looked up and down by a human woman who raised an eyebrow, scoffed, and said, “Wrong tree, buddy.”

She turned and walked away, laughing loudly with the woman on her arm (dressed as a mime, if you’re curious), and a buzz caught his attention behind him. He turned to find Beelzebub staring up at him with her usual apathy, but mirth danced in her eyes. 

He looked her over- she was wearing a high-waisted black dress that he vaguely recalled going out of fashion a few hundred years ago, a sheer white cape with a split up the middle over bare shoulders, and a half-mask covered in red sequins. The fly on her head was also wearing a mask, he noted with amusement.

“I thought you said you were going to match me,” he accused, pouting, and she shrugged.

“I lied.”

“You look nice, anyway,” he added, eyes lingering on said bare shoulders. “Have you seen either of  _ you-know-who _ yet?”

“Not yet. There are a million of those masks, it would take a  _ miracle _ to find them.” This accompanied by a pointed look toward him, but he shook his head.

“They might notice if we go tossing miracles around. We need to do this the- eurgh-  _ human _ way.”

“Hmph. I zertainly won’t mind watching you flirt badly with every snake and cherub mask you see. Come on.”

She offered her arm with a smirk; he huffed, but took it anyway, and decided to ignore that remark about flirting badly.

He was  _ not _ flirting badly.

- _ or at all. _ Of course.

-/-

At some point, Crowley had dragged Aziraphale onto the dance floor, and the two were now dancing the terrible dancing of an angel who only knows one dance, and a demon who only knows how to dance badly. Other party-goers were giving them both a wide berth, but that only meant that they had more room to move in.

It also gave them a good view to spot when a stout figure in a white and gold ballgown and a feathery mask hurried past nearby, aiming for a tall, slender human in a snake mask.

“I think that was Sandalphon,” Aziraphale observed, and was turned so that Crowley could look as well.

“Looks like them,” he confirmed. “So that’s four out of five angels accounted for, and two out of four demons.”

“And they keep approaching people in snake and cherub masks,” Aziraphale added. “Oh, look, I think that’s Dagon up there- on the balcony, see?”

Once more he was spun so that Crowley could look to where he was indicating, to confirm that the figure in red doublet and tights with a frankly magnificent ruff and a skull mask was indeed his line manager.

“That’s Dagon all right,” he said, spinning Aziraphale again just for the he- just for fun, and grinning at the startled laugh he got in return. “I don’t think it matters about Ligur or Raphael- they’ll turn up eventually. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” The pair parted, bowing to each other before hurrying off to do their part.

-/-

Ligur was, in fact, the first person Crowley found as he was seeking out his fellow demons. Crowley wasn’t sure how he’d missed him before: he was wearing an almost garishly colorful coat in place of his usual dark one. Over his face was a very familiar chameleon mask, but Crowley only barely took any of that in because the person he was talking to— was  _ telling a bawdy joke to— _ was  _ Michael. _

Crowley had just enough time to think,  _ That’s unlikely, _ and concoct an idea that perhaps Michael didn’t recognize Ligur as a demon, before Michael snorted and said, “Ligur!” in a tone not nearly as reproachful as probably intended.

Crowley’s mind snapped to a halt, and then took off running in an unexpected direction. He slunk away before they could notice him, and went looking for someone else.

A quick search turned up Dagon by the punchbowl, and he was this time unsurprised to find Dagon also in the company of an Archangel— in this case Sandalphon, who was swaying a little to the music and allowing Dagon to tempt them into trying some of the prawns on the refreshment table.

He was half-expecting to find Hastur and Uriel together, and was more surprised to find Hastur had been coaxed onto the dance floor by a few humans and was now dancing very badly with them— though the humans were also dancing badly, and thus likely hadn’t noticed.

Another look around found Uriel right in the same spot as before, Aziraphale lurking not far off. He suppressed a grin, remembered his mask, and grinned properly. Aziraphale was a  _ champion _ lurker; Crowley had taught him himself, back in the beginning of the Arrangement, and he’d taken to it like a duck to bread. He let himself admire the view for a moment, and then headed up to join his angel.

-/-

The trouble with using their careful anonymity to eavesdrop on their superiors in hopes of hearing what they were up to was that it required them to talk about what they were up to, and so far all of his superiors— save Uriel— seemed rather intent on cosying up to the various demons. And he hadn’t seen Raphael at all, but wouldn’t be surprised to find her under the mask of one of the humans Hastur was dancing with.

He looked around the room again. Michael was engaged in quiet conversation with Ligur, Sandalphon was sharing party nibbles with Dagon, and Gabriel—

Gabriel was the kicker, Aziraphale decided. Polite interaction to keep an eye on the Enemy while avoiding a commotion that would lead to human notice was fine. He and Crowley had used the excuse many times over the years, when orders had allowed them to attend the same social occasions.

But Gabriel and Beelzebub were currently in an out of the way corner of the room, while Beelzebub walked Gabriel through a very complicated set of steps that Aziraphale recognized vaguely from his time in the French courts, slightly off-kilter with the rhythm of the music.

There was no writing that off. That was  _ deliberate. _

“You see it too, don’t you,” purred Crowley’s voice in his ear, and he felt the faintest pressure at the small of his back that prevented him turning around. 

“I have to admit, this isn’t what I was expecting to come of this evening at all,” he replied, keeping his voice down lest Uriel hear and notice them.

“I think it’s time,” Crowley said, and when Aziraphale reached for his hand, pulled his own away and said, “Listen, angel. We’re at the point of no return here— we’re about to lay all our cards on the table, and once we start, there’s no taking it back. Are you really sure you’re ready for this? If we’re wrong— are you really ready to defy heaven on a guess?”

“I am,” Aziraphale said, and reached for his hand once more. “Now do it.”

“As you wish, angel.”

He raised his free hand, then, in a heavy, strained motion, as though he were pulling power from a source that did not want to relinquish it.

The ballroom vanished, the music vanished, the guests vanished— the world became a white desert under a clear sky, and Aziraphale and Crowley stood staring around them at a gaggle of angels and demons who were all— save one— surprised to find themselves removed from time.

Ligur and Michael ceased their bickering; Dagon halted with a canape half raised, shrugged, and ate it; Hastur’s arhythmic wiggling ceased with an embarrassed cough. Beelzebub and Gabriel were the last to notice, and then noticed at the same time: they broke apart as if they had been burned, putting several feet between them and turning to their fellows as if they had  _ not _ just been dancing together under all of their eyes.

“All right,” Crowley said, slipping his mask off with the hand not clutched in Aziraphale’s deathgrip. “Now that we’re all here— what, would you kindly explain,  _ the fuck?” _

-/-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Beez's costume as tacky as possible because you know she would.
> 
> Here's the masks they're all wearing (save Ligur and Hastur, who are just wearing their animals):
> 
> [Uriel](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ec/48/74/ec48749bd9e08bbec398e9fae4629128.jpg), [Gabriel](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/91Xyh-zQ5IL._UX425_.jpg), [Beelzebub](https://images.esellerpro.com/2316/I/790/7/EM126.jpg), [Sandalphon](https://cdn11.bigcommerce.com/s-9kmea7jw/images/stencil/1280x1280/products/2258/8136/USM-M6131-WTGO-1-LMK__82650.1555107541.jpg?c=2&imbypass=on), [Dagon](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e1/8e/0b/e18e0bc69bf5a7e33a20793693b4b069.jpg). Michael's was never mentioned, but I like [this one](https://www.crystalsrosecottagechic.com/images/GoldsilverRhinestoneMardiGrasMask.jpg).


	6. Part the Fifth: War Is Only Slightly Less Bloody Than Monopoly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angels and demons are in for a rude awakening when they realize how many party lines have been crossed. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't as put out as God might have predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at the end!
> 
> By the way, it's not really relevant, but I feel down a rabbit hole so [here](https://www.estylecdn.com/manufcols/cassandrastone/current/zoomalt/6236F_Ivory_Gold.jpg) is the gown I picked out for Sandalphon.

-/-

Archangels and demon nobles looked around at each other, and the blatant fraternization going on between them— looked from Michael and Ligur to Dagon and Sandalphon, to Beelzebub and Gabriel and finally to Aziraphale and Crowley, hands still clasped tightly between them. It was Hastur who finally broke the silence.

“What’s going on?! I thought we were trying to set those two up, not go cosying up ourselves!”

Objections burst from all parties, until a shrill whistle cut through the noise and they all looked over at Aziraphale, free hand half-raised to his mouth and an almost dangerous smile fixed onto his face.

“I believe we asked a question,” he said. “Will someone _ please _ answer it? What’s this about _ setting us up?” _

“For _ some reason,” _ Uriel said slowly, shoulders quaking with— what, rage? Betrayal? Sorrow?— “the Almighty has decided to order us to make you fall in love with one another.”

“Well,” Crowley said. “That was a bit pointless.”

“Yes,” Uriel replied, shoulders crumpling. “And now the rest of us have been compromised as well. Well done. You may have ruined everything.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, beaming around at the gathered angels and demons. “Everyone seems to have been having a very nice time.”

“A nice time—!” Hastur gestured at the room at large. “We are _ angels _ and _ demons! _ We do not _ fraternize _ with one another!”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a look. The remarks were so reminisce of remarks that Aziraphale had made over the years that it was uncanny, but Aziraphale knew how to respond.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re enemies.”

“Why?”

Hastur made to respond, then stopped short. “Well, because we _ are. _ Heaven and hell, good and evil, right and wrong— we are fallen and you are not. There’s going to be a war in a few years. We’ll have to fight each other. Can’t go making friends before then. It’d be awkward.”

“Doesn’t have to be a war,” Crowley said. “Seems like it’d be pretty easy to just not have one. Find some other way of settling the score. Sack races and the like, maybe.” He glanced at Aziraphale. “Few rounds of Monopoly, if you’re feeling particularly bloodthirsty.”

“Don’t be stupid, demon,” Gabriel said, now that he’d put a few feet between himself and Beelzebub. “We can’t just _ cancel _ the war. It’s… the war! We’ve been working toward it for years!”

“But _ why _ does there have to be a war?” Aziraphale asked, as he had a hundred, thousand times over the past eight years. “It’s such a dreadful business. Have you spent much time on battlegrounds? I have. They’re terrible. There’s no glory, no righteousness— just quite a lot of people dying en masse.”

“Maybe human wars,” Uriel said. “A divine war—“

“Will be exactly the same on a much larger scale and _ you know it,” _ Crowley said. “Look, we’ve none of us gotten over the _ last _ war, why the hel- the hea- why in the _ world _ would we try to have another one? There’s better ways of doing things! And the earth is such a wonderful, exciting, interesting place— full of good food, good wine—“

“Good company,” Aziraphale added, giving him a fond look. He turned back to the assembled. “Look. You said She wanted us to fall in love, right? Maybe— maybe we were only meant to be the first step. We’re not so different from one another, you know. Angels and demons. There can be friendship. There can be more.”

“Not so long as we serve different masters,” Uriel said. “We will always be enemies, no matter how many of us compromise ourselves.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about that,” joined from the side, a figure in heavenly robes and a snake-mask that had thus far remained silent, content to take in the proceedings. Raphael slipped her mask off. “You’d be surprised at what your masters are willing to allow, actually.”

“And how would _ you _ know what our master will allow?” Beelzebub demanded.

Raphael smirked. “Think you’re the only one with backchannels and Arrangements?” She stepped over to Aziraphale and Crowley. “Hi, you two. Got it worked out at last, have you?”

Crowley hummed vaguely. “Could have saved a lot of trouble if you’d said something.”

“That wouldn’t have been _ nearly _ as fun, though.”

“If you are _ quite _ done,” Michael said, but Aziraphale shook his head.

“You don’t have to make any decisions or changes now. Just consider what we’ve said. If _ we’re _ allowed this— perhaps you will be, as well.” He turned to Crowley. “Dearest, I think it best if you restart time now. We’ve learned what we wished to.”

The world returned in a flash, the angels and demons now converged near the door. They shared awkward glances and uncomfortable shifting, and then Uriel spun and stormed to the door, vanishing in a flash just over the threshold.

With one last look to Ligur, Michael followed; Ligur and Hastur went next, arguing in whispers as they dissolved into the ground. Dagon was next, but not before tucking a slip of paper into Sandalphon’s scandalously low neckline with a parting shot of ‘call me’ before melting as well.

Sandalphon looked down at the phone number peeking out of their gown, cleared their throat, and vanished.

Beelzebub and Gabriel were the last. They refused to look at one another, but they also refused to look to their subordinates, either. Finally Beelzebub sighed.

“We’ll speak about this tomorrow, Crowley,” she said.

He forced a sheepish laugh. “Ah, actually, I have plans tomorrow—“

“We will speak about this tomorrow!” she repeated, putting the power of a prince of hell behind her words. This time he nodded.

“Tomorrow. Right.” He watched her leave, walking down the steps toward the road rather than teleporting. He turned a sly look to Gabriel. “You know… you could always follow her.”

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth a few times, then spun on his heel and hurried after her. “Bee, wait up!” he called, and to their surprise and hers- she did, slowing so that he could fall into step beside her, the two disappearing down the road together, walking more closely than was strictly necessary.

The pair turned to Raphael now, to find that her expression had softened into a relieved fondness.

“You knew what you were doing after all,” she murmured, and at their inquisitive eyebrows, turned a dazzling smile on them. “And there goes everyone to the world but I. And I am sunburned.”

Aziraphale laughed. “If it’s a demon partner you’re looking for, my dear, I’m certain Crowley wouldn’t mind arranging it for you.”

“Nah, I’m happy. And I’m glad you two managed. I was getting really tired of you mooning around each other.”

“Think it did any good?” Crowley asked.

“Who knows? The others will loosen a bit, I think, but those two…” She nodded in the direction Beelzebub and Gabriel had disappeared. “Who knows how that will change things? But it will be very interesting to find out, I think.”

-/-

Late that night, Crowley walked Aziraphale to the Bentley and opened the door for him with a snap of his fingers. He handed Aziraphale into the car like the gentleman he’d once played the role of, kissing Aziraphale’s hand before parting and going to take his place in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry about tomorrow, angel,” he murmured, once he had. “We’ll have to raincheck.”

“Quite all right, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, taking his hand and kissing it in turn. “I’ve waited this long; a day or so more won’t make much difference.”

Crowley couldn’t help the softening in his expression at that, and he leaned closer. “Don’t have to be in front of the boss until tomorrow,” he pointed out. “Come back to mine? It’s allowed, now.”

For a moment, there was silence, and Crowley held his breath while he waited before Aziraphale smiled at him, angelic and soft and yearning, and said, “Of course, my dear. Anywhere you like.”

-/-

In the end, Beelzebub kept Crowley waiting outside her office till after midnight, just so he couldn’t go on his planned date with Aziraphale, but the actual meeting only took about fifteen minutes. So it was the next day that they finally dined at the Ritz, and honestly, rainchecking for a single day wasn’t such a high ask.

“It wasn’t so bad as I thought,” he said, once they were settled into their food. “She wanted to know about the nature of our Arrangement, and I naturally fibbed a little.”

“Oh? What did you tell her?”

“Said we’d found each other more pleasing company than humans, and that we’d made some non-aggression agreements for when we were working the same area, and keep out of each other’s way unless ordered otherwise.” They paused while the waiter came by to refill their glasses, and then he went on. “She wanted to know if I’d tried making you fall, and I told her I’d thought about it but it seemed like too much work, and anyway, if I did you might get assigned elsewhere and I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to.”

“Did she accept that?”

“Course. It was a selfish and lazy motive, that’s pretty demonic.” He added, after a few moments’ thought, “You know, angel, to be honest I think she just wanted to find out how we made things work between us. She kept asking about- you know, how we got around our natures clashing.”

"And?"

“Told her the truth- that it doesn’t work if you think of your nature as clashing. Told her if she thought of her and Gabe as balancing weights rather than clashing forces a lot of things would click into place.”

Aziraphale gave him a fond smile at that. “I wish we’d figured that out sooner. It would have saved us so much heartache.”

“Nah. Maybe.” Crowley shrugged. “Honestly? I think we were meant to go through all of that.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well- cause-” He frowned. He’d thought about this outside of Beelzebub’s office, so much that it had made his head spin, but he thought he almost had the shape of it, now. “It’s just… God _ must _ have known why we were reluctant to pursue a relationship. So if She’d been so keen just to get us together, why not let us know it was allowed and then put out a memo? Why send that lot out to mess everything about?”

“Perhaps She thought that it would mean less, if we didn’t decide for ourselves.”

“Maybe, but I think… all the party-line crossing that was going on, I think maybe She… wanted them to find out. And realize that it was possible to make it work.”

“But why?”

“No idea.” He shrugged. “Took me long enough just to work that bit out.”

“Ah. Well. I don’t suppose it matters. It’s… well, you know.”

Crowley hummed an affirmative, and raised his glass. “To ineffability, then. And the Plan working in our favor for once.”

-/-

End

-/-

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Bonus

-/-

Raphael leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up on the table. “This is cosy,” she said. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No idea,” Aziraphale said, while Crowley gave him a look as if to ask why _ he _ wasn’t allowed to put his feet on the table, too.

Aziraphale gave Crowley a look that said very clearly that it was because Raphael was an Archangel and a superior and if Crowley wanted to tell her to take her feet off the table, he could be Aziraphale’s guest.

Crowley returned this expression with one that said very clearly that he wasn’t _ stupid, _ thank you, he just wanted to know why the rules were clearly so arbitrarily ill-defined, and anyway, why couldn’t Aziraphale _ politely _ ask Raphael not to ruin the furniture with her boots?

“You two are expressing so loudly I can practically hear you,” she said. “What are we discussing?”

“Crowley wants you to take your feet off the table,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley gave him a scandalized expression that shouted traitor at the top of its voice.

“Oh, sorry.” She swung her feet back down. “You could have just said.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a look that said ‘See?!’ Aziraphale set a tea tray on the table.

“I put the word out, and so did Crowley, but there’s no telling if anyone else will be interested.”

“We’ll give them a few more minutes, and if no one else shows, it can just be the three of us.”

Even as he said that, though, there was the tell-tale jangle of the shop’s bell as two figures came into the front of the shop. Aziraphale excused himself and disappeared through the door, then returned a moment later with Michael and Dagon following.

“Is this where you’re holding the demons and angels bookclub?” Michael asked, casting a mistrustful side-eye at Dagon.

“It is,” Crowley said. “You wanna join?”

“We’ll see,” Dagon said, taking the seat Aziraphale offered. “Today is just a trial run.”

“What will we be reading?” Michael asked, taking a seat beside Raphael, and then edging said seat closer to Raphael to Crowley on the other side. It was a start, at least.

Aziraphale took his own seat finally, between Crowley and Dagon, and set several books on the table.

“I _ thought, _ given recent events, we could start with Pride and Prejudice…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! A huge thank you to everyone who has enjoyed this fic; I love and cherish all of you, and I'm so glad you took this ride with me <3
> 
> Special thank you goes to kanna-ophelia, who was kind enough to be my sounding board for bits of this, and who is indirectly responsible for the Dagon/Sandalphon that happens toward the end there.

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooo who wants to see more of this nonsense? Hit me up on Tumblr @grifalinas!


End file.
